Allegory in Three Parts
I.
rain fell and fell and drowned my fields he came walking with the storm at his back .
I had heard tales of him striding the hilltops like a giant with a bag of houses spilling out old stone farms from a rent tom by a church steeple of how he built the city's bridge and the walls of Rome and had to content himself with the soul of a lone black cat in payment and yet he seemed somehow smaller and incapable of wonders when he finally condescended to call I did not, in truth, recognize him I, the very genius of famine with horse and scales crying prices in the marketplace a plague corpse , a skeleton behind my starving oxen
a fine pair we made
"we shall make a deal" he said, "and the crops above the earth are to be mine and those below it yours" and promised me a gem of great price I signed in blood
I sowed the seeds he gave me though how dead men's bones should bear fruit seemed darkest mystery to me yet the trenches were dug, and I waited the iron briars grew thick entangled with martyred men red rain in the trenches filled with water and blood
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I split the fire between my neighbors and it burned on all our hearths
III.
the sun so burnt the earth no green shoot could rise and again I saw him walking and he seemed a giant in the wavering heat
"I will make you no promises" I said and he laughed, saying "we are old friends, you and I what need have we of promises"
there is a spring on your neighbor's farm that has its roots in my domain and I come only to offer you a taste . and he pulled a great flask and held for me to drink its contents were black as the pit and so thirstily did I drink all that he had he smiled, and left and we said no more that day
and first I offered all I had to buy my neighbor's wells but he refused me and then I found reasons to tarry in his fields "to help you bring the harvest in" I said "to protect your fine wells from thieves and robbers"
"your coat is made of hair and teeth" he said "and you seem a giant in the wavering heat my fields are mine to tend, now off with you"
I took the devil's fire from my hearth and kindled it as he had taught me and returned to bum his house to the ground
the earth was so dry, and as thirsty as I
the world is burning still
Jacob Rakovan
Flickertip
the apex of immaturity geing bald as a business man
but I refuse to grow up grow old fade away
lie on the porch with all the tenacity of a neutered dog encircled by vultures
Tony Alva, Bill Danforth, Ray Barbee, Lance Mountain and Steve Caballero are heroes of my culture
my ear still bends to the whir stick click grind slide of obsession my ear still bends to the sounds of vandalism and public menacing my mind still dreams of nice long curbs without a cop in sight my heart still pounds with the passion of a "misunderstood youth"
so when I the bald, out of shape professor of English dust off my manual and kickflip before class and you oh so maturely ask if it's completely necessary I respond you're damn skippy it's not necessary and THAT'S what makes my life more fun than yours.
Leonard S. S. Poage
- me. before a sens e of loss . elation to increase knowing-. aware.
resolution a runner.
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cnecr of the idea al w ays walks before me too tired to catch up. pushes cheap paper, decorated hands of silver that no longer s parkl e. re . ou an old man? Are you droopy, saggy, sad? the trees care?
Aggravating assaults of apathy. I'm a wiggle worm w ho writhes through hollowed hearts of apples . A black penguin too fat to fly, too c old to care . 'laddle, walk. wait no longer clear ice cracked aeons ago .
Raum home to hide, a pla ce to hibernate. eyes close · room is cut - lost pieces. 'OC real the other gray. cmoot choose between the two .
&tea smile.
Micro Cosmos,
A space that occupies approximately 3 cubic feet, it sits at 38 ° 45' N /82 ° 55' W. Well, pretty close anyway. Not having been a huge fan of math, I find myself fascinated with the logistics of this space that has been created.I wonder if their conversation became wallpaper? Wrapping itself around every nook and cranny of this cubic cosmos? Or perhaps there was a small crack in the plaster and it all escaped. Are there still Iifes on the walls that show fingers twirling ravelings on a blue-gray sweater, hair being tucked behind an ear, comers of mouths turning up to the sky with great exaltation, or are there instead paintings like Rothko? Blends of color that portrait the mood, burnt umber over crimson red, black fading to white with 265 shades of gray in between. Just curious, I don't really know . And do they make rulers that measure those odd distances like that stretch of beautiful skin from just above his shirt collar to the first bit of stubble? Maybe there is a protractor that can measure the crooked angle of her glasses in relation to the way she looks over the top of them at him. And what type of unit would that be exactly? I think lbs psi.
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What if there was a library of this or better yet a card catalogue, that instead of subject, author and title, had look, smell and taste?
So that whenever you wanted to reference it you could just pull the card and smell Marlboro and coffee, or see hands with fingers crossed, cupping a smiling face, dirty fingernails and straying hair.
Perhaps there are no means by which to measure and record all these things because few people actually experience them. Perhaps then I should corner the market on this, or perhaps not. Maybe those few rare individuals who experience this level of intimacy deserves their privacy.
Maybe ... and maybe not.
Inhale, consume, and absorb your universes for they only happen that exact same way once in a lifetime.
Be there ...
J.C. Miller
Storm As Hate
Stepping outside and looking back I guess I knew that I was different. Everyone else did. I felt their eyes glaring at me as I passed. My father was too drunk to notice and my mother was too busy fucking the neighbors. Besides the obvious, I faked normalcy. Yeah, white hair. Eyes. One brown, one green. A voice that puberty only dragged halfway. I tried to be a part of the group. Kids are cruel though. Up until high school I hated my inabilities and defects. I hated what everyone else hated. I hated myself. Yeah, the ninth grade. I wore what I could afford. I wasn't in style. I wasn't on the football team. I was the one every one called a fag because I played the flute in the band. I was the one that got my ass kicked everyday. lfl wasn't being crammed in my locker my pants were being yanked to my knees. I got my face beaten in and shoved into commodes. I was either thrown into trash cans or trash was thrown on me. Anyway, I was poor. I wasn't the only one, just the one that got it everyday. I didn't stink. My teeth were clean. I didn't have the super mega video game system or a CD player that everyone else had. I didn't have cable or a satellite. I didn't have pro wrestling or music that preached of Satan. I didn't care. This was only the veil covering the real issue. I was oblivious to myself and more concerned with hammering this dog-chewed square peg into a hole that was obviously made for triangles.
Ninth grade. My first year of high school. There was the cool crowd, the jocks, the academics, the grunges, the freaks, and the outcast crowd. I didn't belong to any of these though. I was too poor, too uncoordinated, too stupid, too not grunge, too not into black, and too much of an outcast. In reality I think that I was too much of what everyone was afraid of. Small towns are a system like in nature. Everything has its purpose. Everything does what it needs to do to survive. However nature does not like to change. Nature weeds out the lame and the queer. I was being weeded out without even saying a word. I think that the day that I really started directing my hate towards others was a Monday. Yeah, it was a few weeks after we came back from Christmas break. When I stepped off of that mustard bus I opened my eyes to my classmates. They were swerving around me. A line of ants that encountered an obstacle. This broke through my numbness. I started up the stone steps. I viewed the principal, a stocky balding man with glasses who was standing by the entrance doors, and his jack-o-lantem
grin towards all the students. ·I approached his focus and his grin and went awttr. Stopping for a split se&nd I stared.
This was the only man that I had to talk to. Not by choice, but he was the only one that could help. He could give the people that hurt me punishment. He could. However, he rarely did. The last time I had visited him was after some dumb-ass shits had my head in a toilet flushing me down.
"What did you do to provoke them this time Michael?" He asked me before I had sat down.
''Nothing, they just wanted someone to piss on."
"Don't talk like that to me. I think that it would be best if I call your mother and have her come in and take you home."
"Yeah."
"Son, I think that it would be best if you straighten your attitude about school. You need to start getting along with your classmates. You need to quit acting out."
"Yeah," I whispered.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yeah."
He acted real nice to me in private. And in the world outside his office he didn't even acknowledge my existence. I was invisible
until I made an effort to complain. And even then I was just someone to put the blame on. Blame the victim seemed to be his philosophy. I tumed my body to the endless hall and stepped forward. Sanitary white bled into institutional green. My feet were clapping the marrow floor. The path was clear; no one was in my way. I looked. They stared at me but not my eyes. I walked by them, all stationed at their rainy cloud gray lockers. My ears were open to their mumbles and giggles. I went straight and then veered to the right and into my homeroom class. Nazi's eyes were looked into more than mine.
I sat down at my desk and heard the murmurs. I sat and waited. I felt the paper wad hit me in the back of the head. Being up front blinded me from my enemy so all I had to blame was everyone. Tina. She walked in and I wanted her. She had short black hair. Thin and flat. As tall as the other girls. I had it for her for the past two years. She had Atlantic eyes and a great smile. It never shined on me though. She belonged to the academics.
I had noticed her all through the first half of the year. I alway~ thought about her. One day I would have her. One day I would get up
the nerve to ask her out. One day she will say yes. As she walked by my seat I said, "Hi." She looked down at me. Disgusted.
Something happened after the Christmas break. Some guys seemed to have it out for me worse than ever. On this day in particular these big jock types slammed me into my locker right before time to leave. Tyler, Tim, and Ted. Steroid muscles already beginning to rip through. Apparently no one was in the hall. No one that cared anyway. After I was in one guy pulls out his penis and I couldn't believe it.
"Do you like my dick? You fucking queer." He started pissing on me as I tried to squirm out of the locker. After that the other two spit their mucus in my face. I was soaked.
"I'm going to kill you," I spat. They let out their adolescent laugh and took off. I finally wedged free and headed towards the bus of embarrassment. I stank of their urine and spit. I passed by two kids that had their faces buried in their lockers. I also noticed Mr. Bryant's door was open. I walked on.
When I got home I ran to the bathroom and stripped. I glared into the mirror. I glared into my eyes. I was tired of being numb. I stared myself down.
"YOU DON'T KNOW ME," yelling into the mirror. I stared back not convinced. "Fuck you. What did I do to you? I hate you. YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM." Every hater that I encountered growing up flooded my mind and dragged me to the ground. Tears gushed out and I started hitting. I started hitting myself and felt every punch. I felt my wet tears turn to sticky blood. I felt my face become mush. I started hitting the floor and I felt my knuckles peek through the flesh. I wanted everything to end. I wanted to be dead. It had to be better than this. It had to be better than living. I collapsed on the slick red tile. The helplessness inside was flowing out of me and I had nothing to hide behind. Then I breathed in and it felt good.
After I had cleaned myself up I looked into the mirror again. My green eye was swelling shut and my face was mangled. My face smiled at me. A busted lip. My tongue went to its service immediately. I came to terms with myself. I gripped the sink with my busted hands. I breathed out and coughed. I hated.
The next day I came prepared. I had packed before I left and was ready to confront Tina. To ask her out.It was before classes began. 7:10 a.m. I went up to her. She was in her crowd of friends.
I said "Hey."
They laughed. I marked them all mentally. I marked everyone. "Don't you have a gerbil to play with?" Eruption. I turned my back to them and they were dead to me. I went to the bathroom. White painted
cinder blocks stretched into cigarette stained ceiling. I looked towards the propped open frosted window . I opened a locker-gray stall and sat on the black seat of the porcelain throne. I was alone but I would make them bend down to me. They don't know me. I dropped my black backpack and sat. The zipper grin of it. I opened its mouth of truth. I sifted. I gripped. I was ready. I glanced at my scuffed watch. 7: 17. I was ready. I tucked it in under my shirt. I breathed. Ready. Kids are cruel.
I heard every second tick. I heard my feet applaud. I entered my world as a meteor. I had seen the T Jocks. They saw me. Claps of thunder when they walked. I stood still.
"Ready for my dick queer-boy?" One shot out. Everything went white. I pulled and blasted. Tyler, Tim, and Ted were on the floor. Three ducks. Screams. Good-bye Tina. I was blind and shot at everyone. They were all my targets. Lightning flashed. Thunder shook. I wanted them all down. Reload a cartridge. My hand was white with grip and I didn't say a word. Seconds went by and Principal Big Boy was running towards me hand stretched out. Lightning struck and I was God. He fell red on the white tile. I reached the hand of death out and touched as many as I could. My bullets penetrated flesh and reclaimed my esteem from my schoolmates. I watched the slow motion shock of inevitability. They fell to the ground and I stood strong. I was the king of this storm. The red carpet was laid out for me and people were bowing. Most of them red with love. Then somebody took my crown and wand and knocked me down from behind. My teeth met tile and one chipped. Elephants landed and stomped their Goliath feet on me. I had fallen.
Weeks went by like rain and I was being flooded. I was alone and all I saw was the news. Television told me that they tried to blame my father. He owned the gun. My mother sent me a letter telling me that I was a bastard and because of me my father was beaten to death. I think that it was a relative of someone. The news also blamed it on television and music. "The media are warping the minds of the children," they said. No. My mind was focused on my pain. Not the aggressions of some rapper or heavy metal group. Not a video game. I did this because I felt I should. I had seen on the television that those two students and Mr. Bryant had heard my threat of murder.
"We never took him seriously," one of them had said. "He was just a guy that never hung out with anyone. I thought he had some mental problems, but nothing like this."
"Mr. Goodson seemed to be doing well in all of his classes," the teacher, Mr. Bryant, had said. "I hoped that the students could come to me if they had problems. I couldn't imagine Michael resorting to this violence. I didn't think he was serious when he said that he would kill. He just didn't seem to be that type of person."
And I am the one that they put away. I didn't get to explain my little side of the story. I didn't have the chance. I would tell those media pricks that only after this had happened was I part of the whole. Only at that moment was I a member of the student body. In front of the camera anyway. I had brought them the truth. I wish that they would look at the pain they caused me. You told me that I had killed seven people and wounded five others. I don't care. That whole school fucked with me my entire life. I was hated because I was different. I was hated because of things I couldn't control and I found a way of changing that. I brought a flood and left a rainbow. Keeping me in here only keeps the clouds out. When I get out I will bring the sun and their skin will burn.
J.B. Koch
Rocks have fascinated and stirred my imagination for as long as I can remember. Distorted by time and weathered down to a miracle of textures, they evoke a consciousness of contrasts. Landscapes that visually mystify as they dominate, envelope or release the space around them give rise to their own transformation. Staged in layers of rock, is a personal relationship of strength, contention and growth. Awed by processes that are eternal and enduring, I create work that is intuitive, responsive and spontaneous. Activated surfaces, obsessive in their texture and rhythm, celebrate a dichotomy oflightness and darkness, strength and fragility and rhythm and silence. A simple rock inspires more than a moment of introspection. Rather, it is about breaking down conventional aesthetic boundaries while paying homage to the traditions of clay. My work juxtaposes forms that penetrate and intersect elements held in a balance. These elements intrigue me as instruments of strength that define the mysteries of process. It makes references that go beyond the material evidence or justification for being. It communicates a message of tenacity and resourcefulness that is as enduring and eternal as those rocks. It speaks to my ability to transform limitations into strengths.
BETH ALBERTS
STONEWARE & TERRA COTTA
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Human Nutrition
Noon. Lunchtime. Time for Carl P. Dillow to get his daily dose of human nutrition. The October air was crisp and the changing leaves rustled in the wind. He rolled down the brown paper bag of seed and watched the pigeons peck at the meal he had provided. He visited the park every morning to feed his friends and left at noon when the children from the elementary school would come out for recess. It's not that he didn't enjoy children; they just reminded him of his marriage to Lois.
She taught piano so the house was always filled with the sounds of children when Carl got home from working for the railroad. They never had children of their own. Lois was diabetic and pregnancy would have put too much of a strain on her health. Lois wanted to take the risk, but Carl pleaded with her not to. He couldn't handle losing her. They considered her piano students their family.
At Christmas, Lois would plan an informal recital while Carl planned a party for the children. The house would be decorated with greenery and lights and each of the children had their own ornament to place on the tree. After everyone had filled up on cookies and performed their individual songs they would gather around the grand piano and Lois would lead them in a joyful rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas .
Carl always belted out "FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!" which made the children giggle. But one year Santa arrived to surprise the children and sing the fifth verse. Carl had rented the suit, but the children loved Santa so much that he decided to buy one the next year and for every year after that. The suit was pretty worn out, but that didn't matter much, Carl wouldn't be playing Santa Claus this year. There would be no recital. There would be no party ... because there were no more students .. .because he no longer had his Lois.
She left him in January.
He never expected it and was not prepared for life alone. Lois had taken care of everything. When Carl woke up his clean, pressed clothes were laid out for him next to the bed. His breakfast was always hot and home cooked, and she
always gave him a kiss as she handed him his lunch pail and Thermos of coffee before he walked out the door. Sometimes at lunch he would find she had packed him a special treat for dessert. ]-Iis favorite was sugar cream pie, but what he enjoyed most was finding the little love notes she would write on his napkins.
One time the other guys teased him because his white napkin was covered with bright red lipstick. The note said, "Have you ever been kissed so many times during one meal?"
He would do anything to touch her lips just one last time.
The last note she left for him wasn't in his lunch pail. She left it on the refrigerator simply held up with a music note magnet. It said, Carl, went to teach at Jenny s. Her mother had to work late. I'll be home at 6:30. Dinner is in the oven and will be O.K. until then. XOXO, Lois.
Jenny was Lois' prized student. She had begun lessons when she was four. When she was nine her father died of cancer. Jenny's mother struggled to care for Jenny financially. Lois had made special payment arrangements so that Jenny could continue her lessons. Carl used to tease Jenny about her bright red hair and gave her a dime every time he claimed to have found a new freckle on her dimpled cheeks. She had matured into a beautiful young woman and was preparing for her college auditions. She hoped to get a music scholarship and become a teacher herself.
That night Jenny's mother was working overtime, still trying to make as much money as she could to provide a good life for her daughter. Since Jenny didn't have a ride to her lesson, Lois went to Jenny's house to help her perfect her piece. But she never made it to Jenny's house.
Carl arrived home that evening at 5:45. He saw Lois' note as he got a beer out of the refrigerator. He left the note there and went into the living room to watch the evening news. He relaxed in his recliner and saw the blinking red light. He got up and walked across the room to the answering machine and hit the play button.
Beep. Message left at 5:35 P.M Wednesday, January 22 Lois, this is Jenny, I thought you were coming at 5:00 for my lesson. Maybe you said 6:00 and you 're on your way now. Guess I'll be seeing you soon. Bye.
Before Carl could react to what he had just heard the phone rang.
"Hello."
"Hello, is this Mr. Dillow?"
"Yes, it is."
"Mr. Dillow, this is Lieutenant Lovjoy with the State Patrol. There has been an accident and your wife has been transported to the hospital."
"Is she o.k.?"
"You should get to the hospital as soon as possible, sir."
Carl hung up the phone and with tears streaming down his face grabbed the keys to his truck and headed to the hospital. He couldn't stand the silence so he reached down and turned on the radio. Kenny Rogers' smooth voice came through his speakers.
Lady, I'm your knight in shining armor and I love you.
The song reminded Carl of when he first met his Lady thirty-two years ago. He was twenty-five and working Amtrak's Detroit-Chicago route. She was twenty and was returning home from college for summer break. He had noticed her several months before on her way to Chicago. It was early April and she was wearing a bright pink dress covered with daisies and a yellow overcoat. Her long curly brown hair was tied up with yellow ribbon and he noticed her long elegant fingers tipped with pink nails as she handed him her luggage. He wanted to talk to her but couldn't build up enough confidence to approach during the train ride. He had hoped to see her on her return trip to Detroit, but he never knew when that would be.
Fortunately, Lois' parents were late picking her up from the train station that evening. Carl saw her sitting alone on a bench waiting in the dark and tried to figure out a way to say hello. He went into the station and took a bag from the lost and found area. He stepped out onto the platform and took a deep breath as he walked towards her.
"Umm, excuse me, miss."
"Yes."
"Umm, this bag was left on the train. I thought it might belong to you."
"No, I have my bag right here."
"Oh, umm, I thought maybe you were waiting for your bag."
"No, I'm waiting on my parents. They're always late."
"Oh, umm, you know a young woman really shouldn't wait out here in the dark by herself."
"I'm fine. The station is closing soon anyway."
"Oh, umm, well I'm the one closin' the station tonight. I don't mind waiting until your parents get here. Would you care to wait inside with me?"
"Well that's nice of you. I appreciate it."
Carl picked up her luggage and fumbled as he carried both bags into the station. Lois settled on a bench next to the window so she could watch for her parents while Carl got them each a cup of coffee and a muffin from the break room.
"So do you live here or Chicago?"
"Oh, umm, I live here. Well I mean I live in Detroit not here in the station."
Lois smiled at his tiny joke and Carl felt a little more relaxed with the conversation.
"So what about yourself. I assume you live here in Detroit with your parents. Were you visiting relatives in Chicago?"
"No, I attend school at the University of Illinois. I'm studying music. I play piano."
"Is that so? You'll have to play me a tune sometime."
"Well it would be the least I could do to repay you for your kindness."
"So who is your favorite composer?"
"I love so many but I would have to say my favorite is Beethoven."
"So you'll play me some Bay-toe-vin?"
"I sure will. What piece would you like to hear?
"Oh, umm, I'll let you pick." He felt the nervousness return to his body but was relieved when he saw a car pull up to the station. "Is that your parents?"
"Yes, that's them. Thanks again for waiting with me."
"Umm, what about my song?"
"Well since there is no piano here in the station I guess you 'II have to come to my house to hear your song."
"Oh, umm ... " Carl fumbled with his coffee cup while Lois wrote her name and telephone number on a napkin.
"Here you go. Give me a call on your day off and we can plan a time for you to come over for your private concert."
"Oh, umm, I have tomorrow off."
"Good, then I'll expect to hear from you then." She picked up her bag and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then walked quickly out the door to meet her parents. Carl
stood in shock, his eyes wide, mouth opened and face turning a bright shade of red. He watched Lois drive away with her parents then locked up and went home.
The next day Carl tried for two hours to call her but he was so nervous he couldn't dial the complete number. He knew if he didn't call he would lose his chance. He finally grabbed the phone and dialed the number as fast as he could so he wouldn't give himself the chance to hang up. He almost dropped the phone when Lois' father answered the phone.
"Hello."
"Oh, umrn, Mr. Williams, hello, is Lois home?"
"Yes she is. May I tell her who is calling?"
"Oh, umm, yes. This is Carl." Then he remembered he never told her his name last night.
"Hold on one moment let me get her."
"Hi, Carl."
"Oh, umm, hello I met you last night at the train station, I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself."
"That's O.K., Carl, your name was on your shirt. But you could tell me your last name."
"Oh, umm, it's Dillow."
"Well, Carl Dillow, I told my parents how kind you were to me last night and they wanted to thank you by asking you over for dinner tonight."
"Oh, umm, I'd like that. What time should I come over?"
"Dinner is at 6:00, but come over at 5:30 and I'll play your song before we eat."
"Oh, umrn, then I'll see you at 5:30."
"I live at 2453 Melody Lane. Do you know how to get here?"
"Oh, umm, yeah I can get there."
"See you tonight. Bye."
"Umm, Goodbye."
Carl dressed in his best shirt and pants. Which were the only clothes he owned that weren't work uniforms. He left his house at 4:30 because he had no idea how to get to Melody Lane. He stopped three times to ask for directions and made it to Lois' at 5:25. She answered the door wearing the same pink dress she was wearing when he first saw her. She escorted him into the living room and introduced him to her parents and little brother. Then she took him into the dining room where he saw the huge, black grand piano sitting in the corner. Lois sat down on the bench and made room enough for Carl to sit next to her.
"So which of Beethoven's pieces do you want to hear?"
"Oh, umm, remember I'm letting you pick."
Lois placed her elegant fingers on the ivory keys and began producing the most exhilarating sounds Carl had ever experienced. It wasn't just the sound that amazed him but the vibration the '"notes produced that filled his body. He was full of emotions he had never felt before and he knew he wanted to spend more time with Lois.
They dated the rest of the summer and Lois returned for her senior year of school that September. Carl arranged his work schedule so that some of his days off were spent in Chicago with Lois. On the day of her graduation Carl asked her to marry him. The next February they were married and moved into a house in Detroit.
Carl turned into the hospital parking lot, parked and rushed through the automatic doors into the emergency room. The look on the nurse's face when he gave her his name made him uneasy. The nurse told him to have a seat in the waiting area for the doctor to talk to talk with him. Carl waited about fifteen minutes, and then the doctor came out.
"Mr. Dillow."
"Yes. How's my wife?"
"Mr. Dillow, your wife was in an automobile accident. She suffered many internal injuries. We exhausted all our resources but were unable to stop the bleeding. I'm sorry, we were unable to save her."
Carl's body went numb while he tried to process the information he was given. His eyes filled with tears as he muttered, "Umm, can I see her?"
"Of course. I'll have a nurse take you in as soon as the room is ready."
A few moments later a young nurse came out and escorted Carl into the room where Lois lay cold on a table. She was covered with a blue sheet up to her neck. The nurse left Carl alone and told him to take as much time as he needed. He walked up to the table and slowly ran his fingers through her soft brown hair. Tiny pieces of glass fell on the floor as his hands moved through her curls. He lifted the sheet just enough to find her hand.
He stared at her long elegant fingers and pictured the way they looked as she would create beautiful music at the piano. He held her hand tight, placed his head on her chest
and let the tears pour from his eyes. He stayed with her for almost an hour. Then he went to Jenny's to give her the sad news.
Jenny burst into tears before Carl even had the chance to speak. He gave her a hug and they held each other for a long moment as he told her in a low voice, "She's gone."
Carl stayed until Jenny went to upstairs to bed. He told her mother he would call the next day with the funeral arrangements.
The service was attended mostly by former students. Lois' brother flew in from Florida and gave the eulogy. Jenny played the second movement of Romeo and Juliet. It was the first major work that Lois had taught her. Lois always said Jenny's interpretation made her feel the emotion of the piece that she had never felt before. It began to rain during the cemetery service. Jenny was by Carl's side and whispered to him, "tears from heaven." After the funeral, Jenny went home with Carl to help him host the visitors who stopped by to give their condolences .
Both Jenny and Lois' bother offered to help Carl go through her belongings and get the house in order. But Carl couldn't bear to go through so many emotions in one weekend. The funeral was over, Lois was gone and Carl had to learn to live alone.
He took several weeks off of work. He returned to work on what would have been his anniversary. Carl wasn't thinking clearly and misjudged a step. He fell off the train injuring his back. Several workers told his supervisors that it looked as if Carl had jumped from the train. Concerned about him, his supervisors ordered him into counseling along with his physical therapy for his back.
After three months of therapy his back had not improved enough to return to work so Carl arranged to take early retirement. His days were spent alone waiting for the time when he could be with Lois. He did consider suicide several times but he knew in his heart that if he took his own life, he would never be in the same place with Lois. Loneliness began to take its toll on him and he turned into a mean, cold old man whose only friends were the pigeons in the park.
Carl's blood pressure and cholesterol were high and he had gained almost sixty pounds in the nine months since he lost his wife. His doctor told him he had to change his lifestyle if he ever wanted to feel better.
"Your body isn't getting the right nutrients, Carl. What do you normally eat?"
"I get McDonald's for breakfast. I like Taco Bell for lm1ch. And for dinner I usually pick a pizza and a six pack of Bud."
"Carl, you can't eat that much fast food and expect to be healthy."
"Can I at least have lunch at Taco Bell?"
"I'd rather you didn't but at least cut back on the cholesterol."
Carl couldn't give up his lunches at Taco Bell. They were the only glimmer of enjoyment he had in his life now. He had never eaten out much before because he always had meals at home. He first had lunch at Taco Bell in late May. He recognized one of the managers as a girl he had went to high school with. They were in the same math class their freshman year and had remained acquaintances until graduation. Carl didn't know if she remembered him.
"Carl, Carl Dillow, it's me Delores Nichols. I read about your wife in the paper. I'm real sorry. I lost my Rick four years ago. After thirty-six years of marriage and raising five kids I had to come work here to survive."
"Umm, yeah you've got to keep busy."
''You're right Here's your order. Have a nice day and come back."
Carl went back every day but he didn't always get to see Delores. She was a manager and was usually in the back office doing paperwork. He looked forward to his lunches at Taco Bell and desperately wanted to ask Delores out to dinner but was never sure when he would see her so he had thought about a way to get her to come to the counter. He hoped today he could put his plan into action.
He pulled into the blue parking space close to the door. He used a wooden cane to ease himself out of his truck. As he stood up he adjusted his pants, held by rainbow suspenders, since belts no longer served their purpose around his gut. He walked into the restaurant and grinned when he saw the pimpled-faced teenager behind the counter.
He stepped in line behind three other people and shifted his weight from foot to foot while he waited for the teenager to stumble through taking the customers' orders. This was only the third day that Carl had seen Shirley working. But this was the first time she had been taking orders by herself. The customer in front of Carl took his change and moved to the end of the counter. Carl stepped forward and began his plan to get Delores to the counter.
"Good afternoon. May I take your order?"
"I want two crunchy beef tacos without cheese but with tomatoes."
"Can I get you something to drink sir?"
"Yeah, coffee . I get that for free ya know."
"Yes sir, I have your order as two crunchy tacos minus cheese add tomatoes and one senior coffee. Your total is $1.58."
"$1.58? Aren't they 59 cents each? I don't know what math you're being taught but usually 59 plus 59 is $1.18, then my coffee is free and since I'm not eating in your filthy dining room my total should be $1.18."
"It's 25 cents for the tomatoes, sir."
"Well, how much would it be for cheese?"
"Ummm .. .let me see." She tapped a couple keys. "Extra cheese would be 25 cents."
"Well then subtract the 25 cents for the cheese."
"Sir the computer won't do that."
"Well I'll be damned if I'm going to pay 50 cents for a few pieces of tomatoes when I can buy a pound of them for a dollar. Hell, if it were summer I'd pick one myself and cut it up!"
"I'm sorry, sir, that is the way the computer rings the order up."
"Are you too stupid to figure it out on your own. Take away one item that's 25 cents, add an item that's 25 cents. I shouldn't have to pay anymore."
Shirley turned away and yelled towards the back of the store. "I need a manager. Delores, could you please come help me?"
Carl tried to hide his smile but this was exactly what he wanted to happen. He had been coming to lunch here everyday for the past five months and Delores had really caught his eye. He wanted to talk to her but could never do more than make small talk about the weather while he waited for his food to be prepared.
Delores came up to the counter and Shirley quickly explained the problem. Delores looked at Carl with a stern face.
"What's the problem, Carl, you order this everyday and everyday you pay $1.58. Why are you giving Shirley a hard time?"
"I was just playing with her." Carl looked over and saw that Shirley's eyes were red and puffy. He had obviously upset her.
"Carl, I want you to apologize to Shirley, get your food and don't return until you learn to treat my employees with some courtesy and respect."
"I'm sorry, Shirley."
Shirley didn't say anything. She just handed him his bag of food and wiped away a tear. Delores told Shirley to go get a drink and she began helping the other customers behind Carl.
Carl drove home and ate his lunch in the living with an old metal TV tray as his table. As he wiped his mouth he remembered the lunches Lois used to make for him. Delores had made his lunch today, but she had made lunch for many people and she didn't include any special treats or notes.
Carl wondered if he was truly ready to move on. The house was still full of memories of Lois, and although he would never get rid of all of her belongings he knew no woman would move in with so many reminders of his wife still around. The most prominent reminder was the grand piano. Sleek, black and shiny with a red scarf draped over the opened lid. Carl couldn't avoid looking at it. The piano was always there to remind him of Lois.
After lunch Carl looked up the phone number to Jenny's mother's work. He called her and explained what he wanted to do. Jenny had always been Lois' favorite and Carl considered her his daughter. She was away at college now. She had gotten the scholarship and Carl was very proud of her. When Carl hung up with Jenny's mother, he flipped through the phone book and dialed another number.
"TriCity Movers"
"Yes, I need to have a piano moved across town."
"Let me check the schedule sir and see when we can do that for you."
"I need it done as soon as possible. Tomorrow if you can."
"Sir it's going to be next week before we can get to that. I'll put you down for 9 o'clock on Monday."
"Thank you, I'll see you then."
Monday morning Carl woke up at 8:00 and dressed in his best clothes, which were only a pair of khakis and a royal blue polo shirt. He waited for the piano movers and when they arrived gave them specific instructions to Jenny's house. He also gave them a huge red bow to put on the piano once they had it delivered.
After the movers left Carl went to the park to see his friends. At noon, he heard the school bell ring but he just stayed where he was. He watched the children run out into
the park and begin playing the slides and pushing each other on the swings. Carl watched them for the entire recess period. Once the children went back inside he left to go have lunch.
As he opened the door to Taco Bell, he saw Delores working the front register. He stepped in line and pulled the flower from his coat. As he walked up to the counter Delores gave him a disappointed look.
"Carl, I asked you not to come back here."
"I know, Delores, I apologize for the way I acted. I was just trying to get you to come to the counter."
"You could have just asked to speak with me."
"I know. I shouldn't have been so rude to that young lady. Look, this is really hard for me to say, but would you like to have lunch with me today."
'Well I can't take my breru<: for another 20 minutes. Can you wait?"
"Of course I can. I'll be waiting for you outside in the patio dining area."
Carl walked outside and picked a table over in the corner by a nice bunch of flowers far enough away from the drivethru speaker so that they could talk. About twenty-five minutes later Delores came out with a tray of food: two tacos for Carl and a salad for herself. Carl unwrapped one of his tacos and took a bite. He went to crumple up the wrapper when he noticed something written inside. "Next time how about dinner?" He looked at Delores and said "yes." They both smiled at each other and continued with their meal.
Sarah Bramblette
Allegro Music
Billy Guy , Mault's Brew Pub
Mother's Buzz Matt Cram
